Recalling You
by darkmistress in the shadows
Summary: Losing his memory, Ishida strives to escape the chaos, even her. IshiRuki
1. Awake

**Recalling You**  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Bleach_.  
**Warnings**: romance, minor bad language.  
**Summary**: Losing his memory, Ishida strives to escape the chaos, even her.  
**Notes**: On the site livejournal, a user named **afteriwake **had been very kind and helpful while reviewing my story "Pit-Patter" (another IshiRuki fic). I allowed her to request a fic from me and this is the result. Thank you, darling.

* * *

-x-

* * *

A mere pile of flesh and bones upon the kitchen floor, Ishida lies on the icy tiles, his vision blurred by salt water and tiredness. Thoughts dance lethargically within his mind; _what, when, who, where, how_? There's no memory of ending up on his back, facing the ceiling but his energy has been deflated long ago and he cannot muster any strength to stand. Ishida closes his eyes and feels his head hurt less. The kitchen light is unnaturally bright.

Something sounds from the front of the apartment—his door opening?—and dainty, light footsteps search his abode, a ghost to him at the moment. Ishida discovers he can't care about the situation, whatever it is. It doesn't matter. However, he cannot remember _why_. There had been an occurrence, a terrible one. Something hurt him...Ishida cannot pull the memory up and he briefly (_very_ briefly) questions if he remembers anything at all.

Oh. There it is again. _Pat, pat_. Padded shoes make their way to him and Ishida _thinks_ he recognizes them. But the strange pain will not alleviate if he opens his eyes, so he keeps them closed and pretends nothing is there. It surely doesn't make him worry and he cannot find any emotion to extrude for this. And, with a sigh, he rolls his head to the side and makes an attempt to sleep.

There's a gasp and he still wonders who it is standing above him. "Uryuu...? How—?"

He wouldn't mind knowing the answer to that question either, however cold hands cover his feverish forehead and there's another gasp. The hands reach over his face and under his arms to lift him. Groaning in discomfort, Ishida makes sure it's extremely noticeable he's just fine laying on...the kitchen floor. Yeah. That's fine with him; it's more comfortable than walking at least. From the voice, he assumes his guest is a woman and he runs through all the women he knows. But his head hurts all over again and Ishida gives up trying to remember.

By now, she has him on his lap, stroking his hair and—does she have a wet cloth on his head? When did she have time to do that? Ishida frowns (but stops a second later because of the pain in the effort), thinking he's probably loosing track of time too. That's not a positive sign. Breathing out, he realizes he still can't bring himself to care either way. Her lap is fine, just enough for him to sleep.

"Uryuu, can you hear me?"

He wants to tell her to kindly be quiet because he'd like to get rest. However, the moment he opens his mouth, his voice scratches and his throat burns with the mere effort. Okay. _Something_ happened earlier. There must be a reason he cannot remember. Ishida decides he most likely doesn't want to know, basing his theory that whatever that something was, it probably was unpleasant.

Then it strikes him: this woman must know him. If he can't recall any memories, perhaps she could assist him. That is, if he can somehow communicate that to her. Talking is out of the question. And raising a finger to write will exhaust him. Ishida mentally shrugs. That doesn't sound too bad. If he doesn't remember, then he doesn't remember. He's too tired to figure out things now.

His eyes open and blink repeatedly to adjust to the lighting. Coincidentally, the lights are off, at least in the kitchen. But Ishida can clearly see the young lady above his face. He stares apathetically up at her apprehensive one. Gently, her thumb strokes the side of his face, more of an action to soothe herself rather than him. Black, short strands of hair brush over her shoulders and some over her face. Azure—or could he just say violet?—eyes look towards him, lingering nervousness inside them.

A small, relieved smile touches her lips and she closes her eyes for those quiet seconds. Ishida thinks she looks rather attractive and how in the world she knows him. Nevertheless, Ishida thinks about how he can't even remember anything other than his own name and he lives here, so he's not going to guess anything just yet. Especially if this woman could possibly be a family member or a friend. Besides, something tells him he's not a lady's man anyway, so that's not going to work.

"We thought something happened when your spiritual pressure dropped so suddenly," she chokes out and he can't bring himself to raise an eyebrow at her explanation. Spiritual pressure. Uh, sure, whatever. "You said you were fine, but...I knew I shouldn't have let you go."

When he thinks she's about to begin crying, the woman abruptly slips away and lays his head on the floor all over again. It's when he can inspect her attire, which includes a white dress with blue trimmings, interlacing right above—wait. He knows about design? Sewing? Squinting his eyes, Ishida decides that he probably does. It's too early to tell, he still doesn't know and, again, he couldn't care either way.

"I've got to get somebody to help us," the young woman explains and he realizes how short she is when she stands, "I can't carry you by myself."

She pulls out a cell phone and Ishida closes his eyes. Her voice is soft and quiet, so he doesn't have a problem dozing off quickly.

* * *

-x-

* * *

As Ishida wakes, he knows immediately he is in some place very different than before. There's a small alarming feeling until it's extinguished by apathetic care and Ishida takes the time to observe the room. It appears to be more dojo-themed rather than a typical home. His head lies on a small cotton pillow and he knows there is only a mere blanket separating him and the floor. The room, small and quaint, is cold with the air flow, despite it being just a few degrees below outside. There's a closet just behind him and a small floor table in the middle of the room.

Mildly wondering where he is, Ishida supposes, since his head isn't swimming in pain, he can at least sit up. As he does, Ishida feels exhausted and drained by simply raising from the floor, blanket falling off his form and leaning against the wall he was positioned next to. He squints his eyes a bit more to search for a clock or something that may indicate the time. However, there are none and the lack of windows does not help either.

Ishida figures if he tries standing, he'll only end up on the floor again. Part of him wonders if that's how he got here in the first place, that some of this is strange that he truly cannot remember anything but his name. But he thinks that he can get past that, because, if needed, he'll just ask around. Starting with that woman, who apparently is his current caretaker. It's possible she's a huge part of his life, considering she waltzed into his home as if it were all right before, so Ishida understands that perhaps the young woman is accustomed to being over to his apartment.

Groaning at the sudden piercing pain, Ishida holds a hand over his eyes. This certainly is strange, but he can't bring himself to be concerned about it. Now that he ponders more, he can't even remember buying the apartment, having a mother or father, family, friends. All of this is suddenly wiped from his mind and wonders what type of life he's had before. Not that he's worried, he can always start again, but it'd be nice to have resources.

A familiar sound is outside the door. _Pat, pat, pat, pat_. Padded shoes. Ishida recognizes it as the woman from before. He knows it is. And when the door slides open to reveal a calmed, raven-haired woman, Ishida can't help but feel a bit of casualness at the sight of her. Despite not fully knowing her, he feels a familiarity, having seen her for the first time since his memory loss.

Blinking slowly, she sighs and walks to him. "You're awake."

He nods, still not trusting his voice in any way, shape or form. She doesn't smile and he sort of misses the first impression she gave last time. The smile, quiet and gentle, is still etched in his mind and he admires it. However, Ishida figures she's not one to share it so freely and that's a shame. Like now, her face is neutral and passive, much like how he is feeling.

"Urahara brought you here after I called for his help. He put some kido healing spells on you, but explained something was blocking the process. You'll need to speak to him for further evaluation—just explain what happened. He'll understand then."

With an incredulous look, Ishida stares at the woman only a meter away. Kido? Spells? Evaluation? Ishida thinks that his life may not be as normal as he had assumed. There's not much he can do about it now, but Ishida really wants to tell her how crazy she sounds to him. Her voice, monotone and quiet, seems serious and believable and he thinks he'll just go with the flow for now. It can't be too bad.

She tilts her head to the side and frowns slightly. "What's going on? Why aren't you replying?"

In a way, she looks even more attractive with that confused face. But Ishida's not about to dwell on that. Instead, he decides gathering courage to use his vocal cords. It can't be so terrible, maybe it's just a sore throat.

"I..." Okay. That came out awful and scratchy. Ishida grips his throat and winces in pain. Peaking over to her, he watches as her eyes widen with alarm.

"You cannot speak," she apparently decides to voice the obvious. Her eyes search the room until she pointedly looks in a particular direction, picking herself up and heading that way. Her small fingers grip an object and, until she comes closer to him, he can see exactly what it is. His glasses. "Here. I'll be back with some anesthetics, or something to cure your—"

Instinctively (where'd _that_ come from?), he clutches her wrist before she can fully stand to her feet. Immediately, she's pulled to the floor with surprising strength. Shocked at his strange action, Ishida widens his eyes and releases her. A couple things wrong with what just happened: one, Ishida has no idea why he had reached out for her. And two: since when does he have the strength to throw people to the ground. As he gapes at the woman sitting on the floor, Ishida silently negotiates that he hadn't _thrown_ her. Simply jerked her down that it happened to make her fall.

Ishida is probably insane. But that's fine. Whatever.

"Wha...?" she frowns again, however, contrary to what Ishida thought, she's not offended. "Why did you...?"

Raspy and pained, Ishida manages to grate some words off his tongue, "Stay...please."

He doesn't get to find out if she will or not, because just as she opens her mouth to answer, a grown man strides into the room. A green and white stripped hat upon messy blonde hair and a long, dark green robe over his form. Friendly, the man smiles as he grips an unneeded cane and slips onto the floor, next to them.

"Urahara," her voice comes out in a breath, almost relieved and Ishida ignores a feeling of being a trouble. Facing towards the newcomer, the raven haired woman explains, "He cannot talk. I'm not sure how or why but it's hard for him to say anything."

The man she calls Urahara nods, humming with thought. Ishida raises an eyebrow at him, feeling tiredness creep inside him already. The blonde turns to Ishida seriously.

"Throat hurts? Or nausea?"

Ishida remembers having both causes, but he holds up one finger to indicate the former suggestion. Urahara nods and pulls something out of the pockets of his robe, a bottle. Great. Medicine. The lid pops open and two pills fall into the pale hand.

Urahara gazes over to the woman neutrally. "Would you get a glass of water for Ishida-san, Rukia-chan?"

Something flashes over Ishida's eyes, something bright and white and familiar. The name causes a particular shock to his system; his mind stays blank for seconds until she is up and already out of the room, obeying Urahara's order.

Wide-eyed, Ishida stares at the blonde, questioning the strange occurrence. Her name means _something_ to him, apparently. Still dazed, Ishida watches Urahara until the man returns the look.

In a low and careful tone, the blonde questions, "You have no idea who you are, do you?"

Stunned, Ishida wonders how he could have known in the first place. By just studying him? Observation can get you only so far and Ishida is confused how this man could have hit the mark so fast and easily. Nodding his head, Ishida indicates Urahara is right.

Urahara sighs and leans back. "I'll have to tell Rukia later but I suppose I'll just work on getting your memory back." Giving Ishida the pill, he stands up and begins to walk out the room. Turning back and staring over his shoulder, he assures him, "She'll be back with the water. Take the pill. It will soothe the pain for awhile until we work on having you fully healed. But we have to restore your memory."

And, apparently, that makes it all better because Ishida's left in the room alone again.

It's tiresome to even think about this. How is he going to start up a life? By picking up from where he left off? Yeah. Not gonna happen. Ishida closes his eyes, irritated. He doesn't want to deal with this. Honestly, he doesn't mind starting anew. Something caused him to feel stressed and he snapped—Ishida doesn't want to go back to whatever that was.

It's strange, though, that he knows his name. It's peculiar. If he wanted to, Ishida could merely search out for others holding his name. But he supposes that's what this Urahara man is for.

Light footsteps drift through the open doorway and Rukia melts down to him on the floor, glass of water in hand. Her face, listless, doesn't meet his gaze. Ishida shrugs off the disappointment, takes the cup and carefully downs the pill. It hurts and he winces as his sensitive throat closes around the medicine. Gripping his neck, he realizes that it's choking him. He tries to breathe, but it's blocked off and he coughs out what little air he has left.

"Uyruu?"

He can't see her very well as his vision gets blurred but she grips his shoulders at once, demanding what is happening. Sure, like he can even _talk_. Grasping the glass of water again, Ishida tries drinking the rest of it down. Rukia holds the cup to his mouth before it drops out of his shaky hands. Quickly, he gulps what he can down until he feels too light-headed.

* * *

-x-

* * *

Ishida blinks awake this time and it doesn't exactly hurt anymore. She's there, sitting down next to him. Or, rather, she's sleeping, her back against the wall and head bowed. Slightly, he smirks at the scene; she always seems too upbeat and soldier on. But apparently she's human after all. Or something close.

He grips his throat, remembering his near-death experience before falling unconscious. He wonders how long he's been out, but like it would matter. Sitting up, he notices there's no more pain. Not even his throat burns any longer. Muscles feel good, head doesn't swim with hurt. Ishida sighs in relief. Good. No more pain.

Standing, he makes his way across the room with one last look at the young woman. There's a hallway, other rooms fill it with closed doors.

"You're up sooner than we thought..."

Ishida feels his eye twitch at Urahara's voice. This man annoys him for several unknown reasons... He turns to the smiling man.

"Feeling better?"

He begins to nod but thinks twice and tries his voice. "Yes."

"Ah! And you can talk now."

"Shh," Ishida nods the room behind him,"She's sleeping."

"Rukia?" Urahara asks with doubt. Apparently Ishida's not the only one who believes it impossible. "Huh. Well, I should probably update you on the news. You're still sick, despite how all your symptoms are gone."

"Sick?" Ishida frowns. "I don't remember getting sick. Could I have just fallen or something?"

"No. If you had hit your head, this wouldn't be such a hard thing to deal with," the blonde sighs out. "It's both a psychological and physical problem. You will still experience great weakness."

"Then it's because I don't want to remember. Is that it?"

"Now you're catching on."

"Then why not leave it be? I can always get better."

Urahara raises an eyebrow. "You don't trust me, do you? Neh, it's all right. You didn't before this happened. But you _should_ trust Rukia. No matter what."

Ishida resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"By the way," Urahara adds, "I should probably warn you about something: keep an open mind when she explains things to you. From the looks of it, you don't even remember having a father or even what you work for. Just listen and don't take things the wrong way."

With a shrug, the man turns and walks down the hallway. Like it's going to be that simple. Ishida glares after his form, even a minute after. How can he _deal_ with this? He just wants to start over, actually. That'd be nice.

But that's not gonna happen.

* * *

-x-

* * *

He goes exploring around the area. No one is about to stop him, so he strolls the block, searching for things that may deem familiar. Nothing does, as he expects. The Urahara's Shop entrance, the old, cramped alleyways, small road, apartment buildings, only a few faces pass him—there's nothing.

It's all right, it's not like he's hoping to regain any memory, considering there must be a reason he lost it in the first place. So, he's not holding his breath.

Off to the other side of the street, a long figure strides along the sidewalk. Her short black hair and lean build cause him to stare for just a moment. Dark eyes slice over to him and they share a glance for only a few seconds until she sets her jaw, narrows her eyes and moves on. Ishida shrugs and continues onto his walk, deciding she probably knows him. If she didn't stop to talk to him, she must have not been that important in his life. But something calls to him and he wants to look back, maybe call out to her and ask questions. However, Ishida doesn't want to and moves on.

There's only two people he knows of right now: Urahara and Rukia. Somehow, they know him and his past. Strangely, Ishida has a feeling he works with them based on how they spoke so informally. Well, if he has job skills, that would be useful. Maybe he can get enough money to get out of this town—away from all of them. He feels disconnected from it all and would rather leave. Despite how that Rukia may care for him, Ishida doesn't feel comfortable with anyone around him. He'd rather start fresh, where no one really knows who he is.

Nah, that sounds a bit odd. But nice, nevertheless.

Ishida sighs. Things would be easier if she hadn't found him in his apartment. Now he knows of this other life. Maybe if he had forgotten all of it, he could begin anew. But, apparently, she keeps tabs on him, if she had checked on him in his own home. At least he doesn't feel like shit anymore. That was terrible pain. He's walking and breathing without any burden (yet). So, things should be fine for the most part.

"Uyruu?"

Blinking, Ishida wonders if that was part of his imagination. (Actually, he's hoping it was.) He pauses for a second before trudging on. There's no way he's going to meet up with another person from his 'past'. Too uncomfortable. Too tiresome. And certainly too annoying.

"Wait! Ishida!"

It's a young male voice. And he's running after Ishida. Nice. Ishida whirls around just as some stupid teenage kid runs into him unintentionally and they're both falling on the sidewalk. Ishida groans in pain as the back of his head hits the pavement. A heavy weight is over his body and he realizes it's that idiot teen who managed to get them into this mess.

"Get off me."

The kid grumbles something about being hurt and him not caring but he obeys nonetheless. Ishida stares at the sky until a hand comes into his view. He glances over at the teen and takes the offer, getting pulled up. He sighs and brushes himself off, knowing something is probably staining the nice pants he has on. Tiredly, Ishida studies the kid before him. Vibrant orange for his hair color and amber eyes, the teenager gazes back with a grim expression.

Not even thinking twice, Ishida begins on his way.

"Wha—? Hey! Ishida, wait!"

In frustration, Ishida moans as the kid grabs his shoulder and yanks him back to face him.

"What do you want?" he demands, irritated.

Equally as offended, "Look, I'm sorry! I didn't know you'd still be angry—! Actually, yeah, I did expect you to be this angry. I just wanted to apologize," the carrot-topped boy turns sober for a moment, a small change from the scowl from earlier. "I never wanted to hurt you. I—listen, just hear me out. I...I can't make up for what I did, but don't let me get in the way of your relationship wi—"

"Pardon me here, but I don't think such a heart-felt apology should be reserved for knocking me to the ground," Ishida raises a hand to stop the kid from his ramblings. Seriously, is this child all right? How could he have known such a bizarre person?

The carrot-head stares at him questionably. Oh, right. Now Ishida's the one who's crazy, huh? Ishida inwardly sighs as the boy continues to look at him strangely.

"Ishida, I'm not apologizing for runnin' you over," he corrects him. Leaning closer to Ishida, he raises an eyebrow. "Don't you remember? What happened with you and Rukia? Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Great. Now that brat revealed yet another mystery to his life. Ishida suspects he only _just_ got this amnesia probably hours ago, based on the way people keep treating him.

"Please," Ishida waves a hand, "leave me be. I don't want to hear any of this."

"No, Ishida, wait," he grabs his wrist, forcefully bringing him closer before he could escape. "I'm trying to tell you it's _my fault_—"

Ripping free, Ishida glares angrily. "Listen, I don't know who you are and I don't know what you're talking about! I don't remember what you're trying to tell me and, frankly, I don't _want_ to."

Amber eyes widen in shock. Taken aback, the kid shakes his head in confusion. Before he can speak, Ishida is off, turning and running away. He prays that he'll never have to deal with that teenager ever again. At this rate, he'll just run straight out of this town and never look back. It's irritating.

The kid doesn't follow, apparently taking heed to his request to be left alone. Thank goodness. Ishida frowns to himself. Where is he heading? To simply take off would be just a little stupid, now that he thinks about it. Logically, he should pack the necessities and find a place somewhere else. That'd be right.

Now only if he can remember where his apartment is...

* * *

-x-

* * *

_Sick. He feels sick. His heart drums painfully in his head, almost enough to feel as if his ears are bleeding. Despite still wearing his glasses, nothing is visually clear. His mind reels and he's stumbling on the hot pavement. Liquid runs into his eyes, disabling his vision further. _

_Oh. It's blood. Right, he was hit in the head. Heh, it hurts too. Ishida brings his hands flat on the road's surface for support, pebbles lodging into his skin. Something is still in his neck, Ishida knows. There's nothing worse than having to pull a knife out and he dearly hopes the object isn't big enough. From his guess, the weapon is extruding poison into his system, judging by the way his body is reacting. His throat is closing, eyes can hardly see, can't hear and just seconds ago, he could spy veins through very pale skin of his hands. _

_Looking up, he can see shadows and distinguish them as his comrades and the single enemy. Big enemy. Tendrils shoot to one of his friends and he feels panic all over. He tries to scream, but breath leaves him. Struggling to stand, Ishida strives to get to her. Why does he always have to be the one to go down first and she the last? Not this time—she's going to be all right, he'll make sure of it. _

_With just enough energy, light sparks from his finger tips and he feels the pull of his weapon at the ready. His muscles start loosing strength, but he hopes there's enough time. If he can shoot right, the monster will go down in seconds. Ichigo can take care of the rest. Gritting his teeth as his hands begin to shake, he squints despite his leaving vision. Shadows and figures is all he can see, but he knows where to hit it. _

_Just as a tendril shoots towards her, Ishida releases the arrow. He imagines the monster screeches as he falls on the paved road, unconscious._

* * *

-x-

* * *

His body flies up from the bed and he staggers out of the room, the walls his only support as he finds the bathroom. Turning the facet on, he splashes water on his face. Catching his breath, he sinks to the floor, bringing a hand to his neck.

Nothing. No blade. No blood.

Ishida sighs, confused at the vivid dream. It was so familiar and yet so surreal. He recognized the characters. Rukia and the strange boy. However, that creature is a mystery to him. It's just a dream though.

He hates this. He just wants to start again and get away from this world.

* * *

-x-

Notes.

-x-

* * *

He's a douche mostly because of the illness, confusion and tiredness. So don't be turned off because our lovely gentleman has turned into a jerk.


	2. Escape

**Recalling You  
****Disclaimer**: I do not own _Bleach_.  
**Warnings**: some language, obviously it's IshiRuki  
**Summary**: Losing his memory, Ishida strives to escape the chaos, even her.  
**Notes**: Here's where the bastard part of Ishida comes out. Beware.

* * *

—x—

* * *

Hours later, a knock comes to his door and brings him from an evening slumber. Eh, he knew he should have packed right away and leave instead of rested. After awaking from that..._dream_, Ishida chose to rummage through the apartment, having momentarily bursts of familiarity of the home. A gym bag had been in the small closet and he had the intention to begin packing, though tiredness overcame his senses.

Sliding off the couch, he lazily wobbles to the door. He doesn't bother checking to see. Ishida already has an assumption of who it is. It's a strange but nearly thrilling feeling as he's aware of who waits on the other side; the sudden sharpness of this sixth sense doesn't alarm Ishida, however. Opening the door in a slow pace, his eyes rest on the short woman. Her eyes look up expectantly at him as she stands quietly on his doormat.

Ishida _really_ wants to be rude. But he remembers this is the person who probably saved his life (_maybe_). Squaring his shoulders (it's almost painful, though instinctive, like he's done it so many times before), Ishida bows his head and addresses her respectively, "Is there something you need, Rukia-san?"

She nods and is about to say something when he whips around quickly. If they're going to have a conversation, Ishida would rather be inside, where no one can hear clearly. Leaving the door wide, inviting her in, he turns to the kitchen and takes out a cup.

"Something to drink?"

Shaking her head, Rukia states, "You need to come back to the Urahara Shop. Please, Uryuu. You're not fully healed."

Well, that explains the crazy nightmares. The illness is still within him, despite the lack of serious pain and feeling he's about to die. But he's not planning on paying a visit to that creep in the hat and clogs. In Ishida's opinion, that man needs more medical help than himself. So, no. He's not going back. Pouring some water into the glass, he offers her an annoyed look.

"It will be fine. You should worry about yourself."

Something painful and harsh passes over her face. Before he can study it, she turns around, running a hand through her hair. And when she speaks, her voice is slightly strangled and it twists at his stomach. "Oh, I—I see. That is all I wished to tell you."

That means there's totally _much more_ he needs to know, but Ishida's not enthused about knowing anything else. Slightly, he wonders why she would just lie—and how he _knew_ she was. Shouldn't he have forgotten already? Feelings and attachments should have disappeared. However, as he glances over her form, Ishida feels a recognizable tug inside his mind, like a reminder of something important. Something strikes a confused chord within Ishida each time he thinks of Rukia—mixed emotions, as if his old self had been just as disoriented of her. He doesn't know how to feel about her and he doesn't want to spend the time finding out.

It occurs to Ishida that Rukia still may not know of his current condition. Urahara still hasn't told her, apparently. That causes some annoyance; Urahara left this problem to him? Another reason he really shouldn't be dealing with these people. Sighing, he leans against the kitchen counter, not bothering to look her way.

"Then I suppose you should leave."

Swiftly, she twists herself around, slamming a hand on the counter near him. The action makes him jump and he stares with offense. Her body inches closer, a menacing look on her face and he backs away. The sudden behavior leaves no room for questions as she speaks.

"You are _not well_, Uryuu. Why do you not listen?"

He begins to defend himself with whatever reasons he can think of, but she continues yelling.

"You act as if you don't know me. I understand that..." she frowns, as if struggling to find the right words, "I understand how you must feel. It was a mistake. I'm worried for your health. If you don't see Urahara, he may not be able to find a remedy."

So the shop owner hasn't told her yet, Ishida discovers that his suspicions were correct. The fool. Ishida mentally sighs. She is still under the impression he remembers everything from before. He doesn't want to tell her about this. As he glances over her tense frame, he realizes that _maybe_ she did mean something to his former self awhile ago. Whether she was a close friend or not, she certainly isn't much to him now. Ishida just wants to rid himself of this.

"Stop lecturing me," he monotones, leaning forward, catching her off guard. "I'm leaving this place soon. You can't tell me anything to do after this is over. So just _leave_."

Shock hits Rukia's expression and he straightens his back, readying himself for the retaliation. Surely, she'll shout back. Seconds pass and she still stares at him with surprise. Gradually, her features fall into a heartbreaking look. Oh, wonderful. He got to her feelings. Ishida thinks that maybe he went overboard. More than that: he crossed about five lines in just a couple seconds. The pain that flashes over her face doesn't fit and that's probably what gets to him the most. That brief, small smile had been the best and he likes that on her. This...this hurt that registers upon her expression strikes him.

Narrowing her eyes, Rukia steps closer, her form barely touching his. They exchange looks until the young woman promptly brings a hand up to his head, says something under her breath and he's suddenly _very_ sleepy. What the hell? What's with all these strange things happening to _him_? What'd she use? Magic?

He doesn't get the chance to ask as he's falling to the white floor of his kitchen floor. Two slim arms catch his back before he does.

* * *

—x—

* * *

So this is possibly the fourth time he's woken up in a place unknown to him. Well, the apartment was semi-strange. But it's getting old and irritating nevertheless. Seconds pass and he begins to recognize the room. Urahara's place. Damn. Staring at the ceiling, Ishida makes a list of the things he'll need to pack in order to move out of this town as fast as possible.

"I can hear you," someone monotones from the corner.

Sighing (for the hundredth time), Ishida sits up and glares at the woman, who sits cross legged. Her eyes don't even blink as she stares at him with a dark expression. He returns the look, narrowing his eyes seriously. Really? She has the audacity to get angry with him? She's the one who violated his rights. Though he still doesn't know how she did it, she knocked him out. And that stands as a great reason to cut ties with her (_them_, he reminds himself, _it's not just her_).

Standing up, Ishida locates the door, intending on getting out of here. When he casts a smothering gaze over to her, he realizes she's not longer in the corner. Confused, he looks back at the door and nearly yells in shock as Rukia is there, hands on her hips.

"How'd you—?" Ishida raises an eyebrow, shooting another glance over his shoulder where she _should _be. "What's going on? Did you give me medication?"

"Uryuu," her face softens suddenly, arms dropping limply at her sides. "Urahara told me what's going on."

Huh. Ishida ignores how disappointed that makes him. That means she's even more involved than she should be. Maybe there's an upside to this. Will she leave him be as she realizes how much he wants to go away? Probably not, considering they had some sort of friendship from before. This causes even more discouragement. He doesn't want his new world to have her. He wants new people—people who didn't know him from before. She'll serve as something complicated and irritating. He doesn't want to remember his life from before. And if she's in this one, Ishida will be forced into recalling the memories.

Rukia glances over his face with almost hidden grief and clicks back to seriousness. Briefly, Ishida wonders why she does that. Why switch from real emotion to none at all? But the thought is gone and he's back to being agitated.

"All I ask is some time for you to be healed," she averts her eyes away, weariness leaking from her voice, "Urahara believes he knows what this is all about."

"Did you tell him that I don't want to be here?" Ishida returns scathingly.

Immediately, she shoots him a withering glare. "You want to go somewhere else?" she demands heatedly, abruptly gripping his wrist, pulling him out of the room, "Fine. You can go _somewhere else_."

His heart pounds with alarm. Uh, oh, not good. He's not a good expert on her yet, however Ishida can grasp a pissed off Rukia is not a good sign. But he allows her to lead him through the hallways, interest pulls inside him and he wants to know where they're headed. She stomps against the floorboards until she reaches the end of a corridor. Raising an eyebrow, he's about to question her intentions, but Rukia throws up the rug and swings open a small, hidden door.

"Whoa! Wait a second!"

But she throws him down the secret floor door and he's screaming all the way down.

* * *

—x—

* * *

His eyes open to a beautiful, young woman's face, scowling down at him. It's crazy but that look just intensifies her attractiveness. Twitching at how his thoughts are going astray, Ishida blinks them away. He's lying on his back and he swears there are rocks digging into it. And his head hurts. Wonderful.

Something is missing. He's forgetting something here... Studying the woman just mere centimeters from his face, Ishida concludes there must have been an accident. Or perh—

"You _pushed_ me in a _pit_!" Everything from earlier comes flooding back into his memory. Flying up to a sitting position, Ishida nearly hits her in the head with his. She easily avoids the collision and backs away, hands defiantly on her hips. Pointing an accusing finger at her, "I could have gotten seriously injured. Or worse! I probably have a concussion right now! The problems just keep piling up. Are you insane? All of you people are mentally deranged!"

Suddenly, her hands fly to the heavens as she huffs. "Oh, please. You're ten times more durable than I ever could be. You and your mortal blood—ugh! Out of everyone, you're the most vulnerable, but you don't care. You get stabbed repeatedly and you just walk away, like nothing's wrong," she seems to be half-mocking him and half-serious, frowning as she concludes, "It must have something to do with being a Quincy."

"Now I really don't know what you're babbling about," Ishida rolls his eyes and sighs. Looking past her, he nearly falls over in confusion. His surroundings are not inside—in fact, everything seems to be outside in some dessert. But didn't she push him in some basement? Some big basement. Of course, that's impossible, as far as Ishida's concerned. (Great, he has started caring...) "Where are we?"

Breathing out irritably, the black-haired woman makes a sweeping gesture around them. "This is the underground training grounds, designed by Urahara. You only came down here when you needed to cross into another world."

Ishida thinks that maybe he can accept this craziness for a bit longer, since he's still feeling a bit apathetic towards his situation. Searching for any sign that could betray what she says is true, Ishida calmly studies the rocky terrain. There was a bright blue sky and a seemingly vast land. Cross into another world? Whatever affiliation he had with this crazy woman before is gone now because he's just tired of hearing this insanity. It's not that he cares if she's border lining clinical psychotic actions, Ishida's simply sick of being around it. He wants to leave.

But it's convincing. A little. She _did_ throw him down about five stories into a strange basement built for...training did she say? And he's not dead. Yet. He'll play along. For now. Turning back to her, he nearly feels annoyed when he spies the smug look across her features. This only sends a few questions to who he really was before to find a friend in this cocky woman.

"Will you stop with that," he demands, brushing past her (sure to bump against her shoulder). "So why are we here?"

"We are here," Rukia stomps ahead of him, a vengeful foot landing hard on his, "because you wanted to get out of this town, right?"

Holding his sore foot, Ishida throws an irate look Rukia's way. "Yes, yes. Now get to the explanation."

Swiftly, she takes a hold of his wrist, forcefully leading him forward. Ishida doesn't bother resisting, knowing it will probably be over soon anyway. Whatever she wants to show him can't possibly be as much as a nightmare as yesterday. They near a small mesa (one of the many there) until she rounds and pauses. As Ishida looks around, he spots a large gate, similar to the Shinto Torii variations, however it is taller and its poles are skinnier.

A click next to him causes Ishida to turn back to Rukia. Her attention is off him for the moment as she opens a candy canister and flicks a piece in her mouth. Raising an eyebrow, he's about to ask aloud why, however a bright light stops him. Rukia hunches over slightly as a light flickers and seemingly extrudes something out of her. Another form merges quickly from her body. Ishida's eyes grow wide and he steps back in fear. This other body kneels on the ground, clad in a black kimono and, from what he can tell, a sword upon its hip. Seconds later, this new form stares up to him and Ishida wants to scream when he realizes it has the face of Rukia.

"Go to Urahara and tell him we are departing," it speaks to the Rukia in the dress. Nodding, she whips around and begins the other way.

"Wait! Rukia! What are you doing?" Ishida starts after her but a hand grips his shirt sleeve harshly. Turning around, he finds himself staring into the Rukia clone. "Let go of me!"

His hand moves to push her away, however she jumps back, glaring. "I'm Rukia, idiot. That's just a mod soul."

"What? What's a mod soul and what the hell was that?" Ishida yells, confused and agitated. He stares after the other Rukia, who now has disappeared. "You're not Rukia. Rukia wore a yellow dress and—"

"It's me!" she persists, holding an open palm to her chest. "This is my shinigami form. That's my human form."

"Okay," Ishida waves her off, beginning the other way, "I've had enough of this. You should probably seek professional help, as will I. You must have drugged me or—"

And she's suddenly dragging him again. Well, this time, it's by the ankle and they're heading to that large gate. Ishida screams at her, threatening to sue or something. But she ignores him, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

"Stop this, Uryuu," she says quietly, "Maybe you'll remember if you see it again."

See _what_ again? Ishida wants to tell her he doesn't want to remember. He just wants to start over and get away. But she's so desperate for the friend she wants had and it's getting way too difficult and stressful for him to understand. Magic? Impossible. It doesn't exist. And all this mystery of who he was once is getting to his head.

A brightness nearly blinds him as the gate begins to glow. Nevertheless, Rukia walks straight through it and he blacks out.

* * *

—x—

* * *

Waking up...in another strange place. Wonderful. He doesn't open his eyes this time. Besides, he feels unusually drained, as if the illness from before has rushed upon his system again. His glasses are missing, he notices, so he wouldn't be able to observe his surroundings.

Ishida slightly wonders where he is this time. Anger sweeps over him as he thinks about _why_ he's here in the first place. Rukia. She's irritating beyond belief. Couldn't she just _forget_ about him and like he has? Doesn't she know it's hurting the both of them when she keeps holding on? There must be a reason he's like this and he doesn't want to stick around to find out what it is. She just can't leave well enough alone. It's her fault this is all happening. He could have been purchasing some apartment miles away if it weren't for her and her weird...magic tricks. Was that magic? Or had she drugged him? Ishida doesn't really want to find out.

His mind slowly begins to slip into sleep again until he hears a familiar _pat-pat_ of feet. Keeping his eyes closed, he recognizes the sound as a door sliding open.

"Will he awaken soon?"

Instantly, Ishida wants to stand and yell at her the second he realizes who has just entered the room. But, apparently, there has been someone in here with him all along, though it doesn't particularly bother him. Another voice, even quieter and gentler than Rukia's, speaks.

"I expected him to be conscious minutes ago." A pause. "The amount of kido you spent on him has weakened his immunity. But I suppose it was worse off, according to Urahara's message."

"But he will be all right?"

The anxiousness in her tone makes Ishida mentally roll his eyes. Her worry is beginning to annoy him further.

"Yes. I've made sure he'll be fine. However...I cannot say if his state of mind will be any different. It's a situation entirely different than his physical health."

"Then what is it?"

"Urahara offered some of his theories. The one with most prominent evidence appears to be an illness similar to fugue amnesia." There's a small pause until the quiet voice speaks again. "Usually people who have this are under much stress. Something finally breaks inside their mind and they wake up. No memory of their lives before. And, because this is a mental illness, they cannot think rationally, so they don't care what happens. Sometimes, it takes years until they are found again and it's normal to find them under a different name and life."

"And he has this?"

"It's possible, though I believe it may be only related. His life as a surviving Quincy and having so many battles in his life may contribute. It would help with more information. However, something pushed him over the edge."

"Oh...I—all right. Thank you, Unohana-taicho. You've helped us so much."

"Until later. I suppose I can leave you alone now. Good night, Kuchiki-san."

The door slides to a close as he feels an air displacement next to where he lies. So he's in a hospital? Huh, so he finally got some medical treatment. There had better be no bills sent at his address; he's not dealing with the mess Rukia made, which apparently she _did_ make (he's sure she's heavily involved). Now that he understands (just a little) what's going on with him, he might as well just go along with it. He still wants to move away from this life, but at least he has some excuse for feeling the way he does.

Great. He's starting to _care_.

Abruptly, small fingers brush over his hand and embrace it tenderly for only a moment. Opening his eyes to slits, he sees the blurry world without the aid of his glasses. A hand comes into view, closer to his face. Instinctively, he snatches it and brings himself to a sitting position. A gasp sounds from his side and he doesn't have to really guess who it is.

That was odd. He doesn't feel dizzy or tired so suddenly. The fast motions should have caused his head to swim but Ishida feels just fine. Strange. Glancing over to Rukia, he makes out her shocked expression as he still has her wrist firmly within his hand.

"You're awake."

"I want to get out of here," he hisses at her through clenched teeth, leaning closer to her. "Get me out of here."

A hand hits his chest hard and he's back lying down. Her body traps him from above. Voice low and in a warning, "For the last time: you are not well. I _must_ help you."

Her determination only fuels his rage. It's not _her_ job to rule his life and it wasn't _her_ job to drag him into places he didn't want to be. Ishida doesn't want to be thrown into this strange world of hers just so that she may feel like helping an old friend. That's done now. Whatever friendship he had with her before is certainly gone. As of now, he's cutting it loose.

Quickly, he grips her other wrist and rolls them over, attempting to gain power. However, this only results in the both of them being thrown over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. The two land on their sides roughly. Desperately, Ishida scrambles to stand up before Rukia can get to him first. Hurriedly, he searches the room for something, though there is nothing but blurred objects. Suddenly, he feels her tackle him to the cold floor and wrestle to restrain him. Ishida growls, throwing her to the side until she's on her back.

This is so out of control, he knows. But he can't stop the flood of anger and desire to get away. She's a barricade and is blocking any way of escape. He _has_ to run from her. So their shuffle continues in dark purpose.

One of her hands escapes his grasp and flies to his face. Ishida hisses as he feels a cut across his cheek. Angrily, he reaches for her wrist but she throws it back, hitting the leg of a small table, which causes objects to fall on them. A familiar clang stills his actions. Squinting to see, Ishida spies his glasses! Before Rukia turns them over again, he lets go and grasps his glasses off the floor, quickly placing them over his face. His world turns clear and more visible.

Rukia, who is only a couple meters away, narrows her eyes at him as she lies on the floor. It's over, whatever that was. It's done. He leans back, his head against the wall, breathing heavily. He's not just exhausted—excitement and fright overwhelm him; adrenaline spurring within. She really is crazy, though he can't say anything different for himself either.

"What's going on?" he chokes out.

Bringing herself to sit down properly, she stares across the room at him with slight remorse. "Why...?"

Ishida frowns. Why what? Isn't it obvious? He wants to know what is happening to them—_him_. All these outlandish happenings keep occurring and he wants to know how to stop it.

But the next second, he hears her voice break and everything stills.

"Why is it so hard to convince you? Ichigo was different...he accepted it. But...why is it hard for _you_?"

Her hands cover her face. Shoulders shake quietly. She's crying, he knows, but how could he possibly comfort her?

* * *

—x—

* * *

A few hours later, she comes by again. This time she's her normal, guarded self. He ignores it and keeps staring out the window. Others dressed like her pass by, oblivious of their quiet observer. Their black kimono's offer a distant animosity for them. Part of him desires to tell her it doesn't look good on her—that bright blues and yellows compliment her better, but that would include being nice. And he's not up for being pleasant.

The sun will set soon, he can tell by the sky's color. Morning. So he stayed up all night. Sleep only brings about small images that he assumes are memories, to his dismay. Ishida knows he'll be stuck here against his will for awhile, until it appears he can recall what happened. And he doesn't want to lie, so succumbing to Rukia's will is all he has.

Observing her move smoothly across the room in grace, Ishida thinks it may not be so bad being her 'captive'. Rukia gathers whatever is needed (some spare clothes, prescribed medicine, paperwork) and finally steps beside him.

"I have a place for you to stay."

He turns back to the window. "It's with you, isn't it?"

"You'll see."

Despite his distrust, Ishida forces himself to follow her. Rukia leads him just a few steps ahead, nearly gliding with each move. Out the door and through hallways, they get to the outside. People stare as they walk together on the gravel ground. Ishida chooses to ignore the questioning glances and stares ahead and it doesn't take him long to find Rukia doing the same. Dirt crunches beneath his shoes as he takes small strides next to her.

"Where are we?"

"The Soul Society."

"That makes sense," he monotones and she shoots him a dark look.

"It's where all the dead souls reside. And where the shinigami dwell," she makes a sweeping gesture to all the others around them. "They protect others."

"And you're a...shinigami." When she nods, he asks, "Did my other self know this before?"

"_You_ _do _know this," she corrects him, "You just don't remember."

They don't speak again on their small journey. He thinks about how fragile Rukia appears and how strange it is she claims to defend others. That explains the enormous endurance she possesses. She takes large strides to keep up with his small ones. Her short stature is so obvious next to his tall one. However, Ishida realizes she must be used to it by now, amongst a world of other giants.

It's rather annoying, to him, how she plays this off as normal. It's as if he has lived with her all their lives and she simply expects him to know all of this, to be aware of these surroundings. He guesses it's her way of controlling him, for he has _no_ knowledge and knowledge is the main power in this current relationship. All this nonsense about dead souls and shinigami's is killing him. It's irritating and getting old.

Stray thoughts lead to what Urahara and Rukia had said not too long ago. Urahara hinted he "had a father", though it was past tense. Parents? Ishida hadn't pondered on it for long, seeing that if he's living alone, he must be well off. Though this "Quincy" business is irritating. What the hell is a Quincy? Ugh, what does it have to do with him? Then there's this Ichigo. In his dreams, he breifly sees that carrot-topped boy, the annoying one. Ishida assumes that must be the one, though he's not going to conclude that just yet.

The small buildings around them start leaving their view as fields of grass enter. Their feet still follow the small road until she makes a turn and he can spot a large estate. Huge gates and fencing surround the area, though Ishida can observe the housing within its barriers.

Apparently, Rukia is wealthy. Not that he's surprised. From the way she acts, he can reason she belongs to some big name. Her poise and manner screams high society.

"You live here."

"With my older brother. Kuchiki Byakuya, the head of our clan."

The gates open for them immediately and she leads him through the front garden to the west wing, where the open hallways guide them to a sliding door. Opening it roughly, Rukia allows him to enter it first. A mat for a bed rests to the side, as other furniture, such as a small futon and dresser, are spread around the room. He turns back to her, eyebrows raised.

Crossing her arms in defense, "I won't bother you, if that's what you're wondering. I hardly live here anyway, with all the work I have in Karakura Town."

"No," he murmurs, "that's not it."

"What is it then?" she asks softly. "It's not Karakura Town. You don't have to live there anymore... What do you need, Uryuu?"

Ishida sighs, letting himself lean against the wall. There's something missing here. But he can't place it. Or is it something that has been lost in his memory? He can't figure it out.

"Is your brother all right with this?"

"He knows you are staying here. Don't be bothered by something like that. What else is the matter?"

A frown falls upon his features as he tries to answer the question himself. It has to do with her, he knows. Mystery and disoriented thoughts fill his mind. She has another motive. Attempting to please him during this 'healing process' is a cover for something else. Finally, he turns back to her, standing straight and stepping closer. Her eyes stare up at him in puzzlement and expectancy.

"Why must you do this for me?" he gently demands of her. "You feel obligated, don't you? It's not because we were friends, is it? What _really_ happened?"

Something very _painful_ and _dark_ crosses her face. And, for a few moments, that expression stays on her face until he tilts his head for her answer. Shaking slightly, Rukia backs away, combing a hand through her hair nervously. Ishida frowns as familiarity strikes him—she's afraid.

"I care for you," Rukia explains curtly. "I'm the only one who can and will help you. That's it, Uryuu."

They both know that's not true. She's lying but apparently the truth may just be too much. He's beginning to have the desire to know as he watches her walk away without a backwards glance.

* * *

—x—

* * *

_She stands there, alone and open, on the highway's road side. Cars whiz past, blowing wind violently around her small form. Apprehension rises inside him as he watches her. Most likely, she is waiting for the other man—the one she belongs with. It's always been that way and yet he's having a hard time with that fact. Why now? Why, when he's only seconds away from saying a polite hello, does this hurt? _

_Stepping down from the small cliff, he flies over the road and lands inaudibly behind her. Instantly, she whips around, sensing his presence. Over the noise of the cars, she breathes his name with a ghost of a smile. It's the smile he's always love and he can only nod. And, just as he begins to leave, having nothing to say, she catches his wrist. Looking down, he finds invitation skimming over her eyes. It's enough and he decides to stay. _

_Leaning up to his ear, he can hardly hear her whisper:_

_"Thanks for the company."_

* * *

—x—

* * *

Ishida jerks awake, gasping. With a hard sweep around the room, he collects himself, leveling his breathing. Trembling, the young man covers his eyes, flashes of a young woman in a blue dress that billows in the wind dominating his vision.

It's undeniable who it was, just like how undeniable it is his heart beats uncontrollably thinking about her.

* * *

—x—

* * *

**Author's Notes**

* * *

—x—

* * *

Longer chapter than the last. For better understanding of what fugue amnesia is you could simply google it. However, it's a type of dissociative identity disorder. Don't be afraid to research these things.

Comment, PM and/or read. Just enjoy.


	3. Ache

**Recalling You  
****Disclaimer**: I do not own _Bleach_.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: a little mention blood.  
**Notes**: If anyone knows the type of government/system the Kuchiki Clan holds, I would appreciate being told. I had trouble with explaining it in this chapter.

* * *

—x—

* * *

As the sun begins to rise, Ishida notes how interesting the colors look. The light blue invades the dark sky, followed by steady glowing hues of oranges and yellows. The sight hits him with great unfamiliarity, as if he has just noticed the amazing skeptical. And it _is_ amazing. Perhaps his Other Self never had thought to stop and appreciate it. Well, that changes now, Ishida decides, as he steps out from the bedroom and out into the small courtyard, anxious to observe other things the 'other him' had been too busy to miss. Part of the spontaneous conclusion is in spite, the animosity towards the _old Uryuu_ clear. Though, the realization that he _knows_ he's never taken the time to watch a sunrise drives Ishida forward. He _must _find what he has robbed himself of in the past.

Along the open hallway, on wooden floorboards, a variety of the same-colored flowers line the walk, framing the way. On the other side, along the wall, are doors much similar to his. They slide open horizontally and are designed with thick rice paper. He opens a few to peer inside and finds they truly are like his. Ishida assumes these must be for guests. Despite the lack of company, he supposes the clan expects visitors often by the amount of rooms.

The estate is well taken care of; something he notes as he explores. A couple of servants, a boy and a girl, run into him and Ishida kindly asks for information (to his surprise, they know who he is already). They explain the small palace is quite old, dating back generations. It has always belonged to the Kuchiki family and there is always a leader to the clan, who is presently the rather young Kuchiki Byakuya. There is a not a monarchy form of rule as he had first believed—instead the power is shared between both the head and a council of elders. These elders, as described by the servants, have stayed within the family since a young age; the idea is that they have grown with wisdom, seeing the clan's functions throughout the years. There are a selective few of ten and the group stays segregated to age only. The clan head is from parent to child and down the line of one specific family, as Ishida previously suspected.

"Rukia-sama is rumored to be the heiress of the clan," the girl servant slips out, brushing her short, practical hair behind her ear neatly.

This new information is somewhat startling. Rukia? Though Ishida has no doubt she owns leadership skills (bossiness seems to be a dominate trait for the young woman), he cannot see her desiring to take up such a responsibility. By the sight of the estate and the way she carries herself, the clan seems to be of high importance. Do shinigami usually have other duties like this? It seems like being a shinigami would be a full-time occupation, though, it appears there is much more than that.

The other servant, a lanky and noticeable timid boy, places a hesitant hand on her wrist, as if to silence her. With a blush, he stares up at Ishida, a slight bow when he speaks, "Youko means no one is certain. Just gossip."

The one named Youko makes a sound of exasperation at the small attempt of reproofing. Waving a hand, she tells Ishida, "Oh, it doesn't matter anyway. Kuchiki-sama is strong and it will be years until we see a new leader." She pauses for a moment, large eyes flickering between the boy and Ishida. Gasping, she smiles as she questions, "Did Haru tell you? He's your servant! Well, you know. He'll just bring food but he keeps good company. Haru's a good listener."

Red continues to stain the poor Haru's cheeks and Ishida offers a gentle smile. "I'm certain he is."

"Well, we've got chores to do. But your breakfast won't be long! Haru will be by in an hour and show you the washroom," the animated Youko assures him and drags Haru away by the wrist, continuing to carry on her one-sided conversation.

Ishida thinks they're an odd couple of friends, though he's really not one to talk. He must have been an abnormal young man before this memory-loss business to have attracted such a strange woman like Rukia. She's a headache, honestly. A puzzle. He remembers the first sight of her: a relieved, happy smile. It was _breathtaking_. Ishida longs for that expression, just once more so that he'll be ensured it will never be forgotten. If he must make new memories, he'd like to think that single image will last.

Frowning slightly, Ishida considers if that means he's actually _wishing_ to be her friend now. Weighing the new idea, Ishida chooses he'd only a little disappointed with himself if he were to desire the woman as a companion. Rukia, over all, is beautiful. It's simply that one fact that has him in constant wonder. Why does she insist on covering her emotions? That passionless mask covers her face, to his dismay. It's not a big deal, really. But it'd be nice to have something else to see other than that same detached expression.

Looking around once again, Ishida breathes in the air deeply. Gardens are mostly everywhere outside, a little water system, that can be easily mistaken for regular scenery of ponds and streams, runs through the landscape. Through the many, small courtyards there are different designs—some with a theme of a colors or twisting shapes.

Ishida likes it here. Just a little. So maybe he'll stay for awhile. Ishida's sure Rukia would relocate him if he wished it; after all, she had taken him from Karakura Town. It's not like he's in rehab (a legal one, anyway).

Footsteps near him slowly and he turns to inspect. An older man, clad in black and gray robes and a white, aged beard, approaches him slowly. His eyes, slightly open, face wrinkled with age, set on Ishida's face with scrutiny. Inwardly, Ishida recoils under the hard stare.

With a deep, scratchy voice, "I assume you are Rukia-sama's guest."

For a lack of a better response, Ishida deeply bows his head, signaling _Yes_. The elderly man nods with understanding, however he stays rooted in front of him. Ishida ponders the relationship this man may have with Rukia. Some sort of relative? Grandfather, perhaps. Or is it he is linked to the Kuchiki name by a business? However, it's possible he may be an Elder, which sends an alarm in his head. Awkwardness fills Ishida's perspective until the man speaks again.

"You are not worthy of living here," the statement strikes him harder than he could have imagined, "Byakuya led _one_ stray in here, and now others have come to follow her. If it were up to me, I would have you sleeping at the gates, even if you were to die of whatever illness she believes you have. It's disgusting."

A tint of red spreads across his face like a wildfire, burning with anger and humiliation. Before he blurts out anything stupid and ridiculous, he stops himself. Something ceases the expected, brasher reaction—something habitual and almost drilled into his being. He's not in his own home. This is someone else's house and he knows whoever stays under it should be respected. It hurts him, but he offers a low bow, staring at the floorboards until he hears the man shuffle off past him.

Taking in a long breath, Ishida shrugs off the degradation and turns to his sleeping quarters.

* * *

—x—

* * *

It's late at night when she drifts into his room.

Regardless of the earlier events, he still cannot sleep, although exhaustion gnaws at his body. It's been a wearisome few days but it's a challenge to rest when perplexing dreams plague him. They come in short, periodic ruptures, almost. As if replaying scenes from a life he's never had. Ishida doesn't mind them until he thinks about it later and it's usually when he wishes to sleep.

She must think he's resting, Ishida observes as she slowly creeps through the sliding door and lightly steps around the mat of his bed. His eyes are open slightly as he watches her kneel next to him, hands folded within her lap. A memory flickers inside his mind. The first day he awoke was the day he saw her face and suddenly déjà vu reigns his thoughts as he studies her through the slits of his eyes.

Solemn and apparent exhaustion falls upon her features but he's used to that expression by now. Next to the emotionless mask she shows the rest of the world, tiredness is next in line. Those violet eyes have faded and he assumes the last couple of days have been weighing heavily on her. More than anything at this moment, Ishida wants to grasp her wrist and bring her closer, tell her that this not _her_ responsibility, that he can take care of himself and be gone. However, it's her hand that reaches out first. Before he can react, those small fingers touch his resting hand on the floor and holds it.

This time, he lets her. It's nothing special to him, but Ishida thinks that maybe this gesture means a great deal to her. Perhaps his former self allowed it before. Or maybe he initiated it. Either way, Ishida knows that he certainly isn't used to the contact and wants to repel. It's the closeness that is alluring to him and he wonders if he had always been this way.

Minutes pass and he begins to doze off until she moves suddenly. With subtle reaction, he watches as she slips away, stands and starts out the door from which she once came. Foreign feelings wash over him like flood water and, instinctively, he jolts up and calls out to her.

"Rukia," and before he can stop himself, "Thanks for the company."

He feels as if he's acting out a memory, or an action that happened before. They're reacting something, though the roles seem a switched this time. And, as Ishida studies the shocked face of Rukia, he realizes that is very possible. It had seemed like a dream at first, but he has come to think of it as something that may have occurred for real.

Her expression hardly changes, even seconds later, when he gets up and slowly makes his way towards her. She's frozen with some emotion he has yet to recognize. Part of him, the part he's made up for now, screams and cries out to stop and turn away. However, another part, the part that somehow creeps from the depths of his mind, controls him for now. And it's that part he's sure is the Ishida Uryuu _she_ knows.

With unwarranted self-control, he raises his hand and grasps the side of her neck, not as a soft caress, but a curious touch. Is all this familiar to him? He can't tell yet and almost immediately Rukia breaks from her stillness, nearly jumping at the contact. Her eyes fly to meet his and he wonders why there is hurt.

"Do you know what you mean when you say those words?" she whispers, as if containing anger or pain. Disoriented by the small demand, he doesn't know which she feels.

Confusion clouds his mind further and he narrows his eyes. "Maybe you should tell me."

For a moment, it appears she really _will_ explain and tell him what truly is going on. But Rukia shakes her head and sighs, turning towards the exit. His shoulders slump with defeat as he realizes there will be no answers and only more questions. Looking after her retreating form, Uryuu hears Rukia's soft voice drift through the night air.

"I didn't know you'd be so different."

* * *

—x—

* * *

The days following that night are slow and nearly excruciating. In fear he'll run into one of those elderly men, who seemingly run the clan, Ishida hides either in the room or escapes to the garden outside of it. Despite there being many other gardens flourished with colors and beautiful scents, he opts for the only one he can spend time in. In case someone sees, he'll dash into the room, where no one particularly wishes to bother him there. Ishida finds he has more energy by the lack of activity, however it's obvious the weakness is still nibbling at his physical well-being.

A single servant attends him throughout the day. The timid boy named Haru, with shaggy blond hair that falls in front of his eyes. Ishida will strike occasional conversations and inquiries and the boy will answer in short sentences. He's gathered only a little information this way, seeing as the servant boy doesn't offer much to say. Ishida has learned more of the shinigami and their operations—much like an executive branch of government, carrying out the law of the land. Their main purpose is to carry souls over, so that they may not be lost. Haru gives little explanations, much to Ishida's annoyance.

Other than that, once a day, a young woman visits him in the afternoon. Her gestures are shy and her shoulders haunch, as if to hide her tall form, but her eyes are fierce. Ishida thinks she must be in some high command somewhere. She has amazing features: a pretty face and shocking white hair. She calls herself a medic and performs odd charms and spells. He doesn't question her, however. Each time he attempts to, the force of this "medical care" causes him to grow tired and sleepy. So speaking isn't much of an option.

He's seen as a stray here and he can't help but feel out of place. Something inside tells Ishida that he's not used to being treated in such a bad manner. It's beginning to gradually annoy him. Apathy has crept away days ago and he questions what really is happening. However, Rukia is never around anymore, a better duty calls her away from him. Ishida sighs when he remembers he certainly helped with that. He can't help but feel as if he's part of her dark side—an embarrassment or simply a priority pushed aside.

No longer can he ignore the bothersome doubts of Rukia's real motives. Why is she the only one involved? Where is that Urahara from the deceitful shop? And how does he begin to sort out this shinigami business? It's not as big of a surprise as it probably should have been. Perhaps there's a distant, strong memory that has blocked the complete confusion and lack of faith with what he has been told. He's in another realm, which is certain. It's real. And he cannot ignore it. But he worries for Rukia. Why is she so focused on helping him regain both strength and memories? Is he all she has? He suspects it's rather guilt than the worry of losing an only friend. Something must have happened. Ishida knows that's why his memories have not returned; he does not ever want to find out. Rukia is involved with that, somehow.

The weather is cooler than normal today. The wind blows quietly against the long grass and through the stems of blooming flowers. Autumn, apparently, happens even here. All he can do his sit in the small garden of the tiny courtyard and wait for the day to end (and, though he'd rather not admit it, he waits for Rukia).

A jolt of wind hits his back and a large shadow falls over him. Startled, Ishida jumps forward, stands and whips around. Someone stands close to him. A man of tall stature, black hamaka and white haori. His black hair is rather longer, past the shoulder and three parts fall intentionally in his face neatly. Ishida eyes him closer and realizes this man strictly reminds him of Rukia. Before he can bow and leave, the man speaks.

"Rukia has informed me of your stay here." His voice, deep and smooth, has an air of superiority. Ishida wonders his role in the clan. "She insists you temporally live here until you've healed."

"Yes, sir," Ishida bows. "That is correct."

"I am also aware that you have lost your memory. Even long term."

"Yes," Ishida nods. "However, if this is an inconvenience—"

"Do you remember anything?"

Ishida frowns at the abrupt question. Opening his mouth to answer a negative, he closes it upon a certain thought. The dreams. Is it possible they truly offer the window to his memories? It's possible and, with his distant knowledge, it's happened before to other people. But to him? Ishida doesn't want to believe all those strange things actually happened. It goes beyond reality (but then again, he's still split on the whole "Soul Society" deal).

Looking up to the man before him, Ishida spots a glimmer of knowing in his eyes. "Yes. When I sleep—"

"Why have you not told my sister?"

"Because I—" Ishida stills in his cheap excuse and stares at him in horror. _Sister_. Rukia is this man's sister. "E—excuse me?"

The older Kuchiki's face remains neutral. "Why haven't you told Rukia?"

"I..." Ishida glances away, face burning in embarrassment and awareness. This is the _Kuchiki Clan leader_. And he's been speaking so casually? "I...I don't know...sir."

Turning back to see the clan head, Ishida is surprised to see no one there. Huh. Must be a family trait.

* * *

—x—

* * *

_The night air is soothing tonight as he sits at the table. Window open, spring wind drifts through the room, brushing against his cheek. The book in his hands, however, has lost his interest. Instead, he looks across the room, deep in thought. He's thinks of the family business, how rough it's going now. The work of being the CEO of the hospitals of his family's name has taken a mental toll on him, much more than he had once believed. He isn't completely in charge yet, having a university to attend and his duties as a Quincy. _

_A knock at the door causes him to frown. The question of who would come pay him a visit tonight is soon drowned by the answer as he opens the door to find her. Dressed in that black kimono, sword in its hilt and fists at her sides. Now the only question is _why_? Her gaze lands on his and she smiles with a small shrug. Strange how he remembers the smile more than anything else. Especially since she drops unconscious on his doorstep the next second, bleeding, bruised and just came fresh from beating an enemy. Maybe because the smile is a sign of relief or maybe it's how her eyes brighten in some morbid happiness that he is there. _

_Dropping to his knees hurriedly, he cradles her in his arms and brings the nearly lifeless body inside. Laying her on the bed with the intent to retrieve medical supplies, he withdraws his hands. With great horror, he finds his arms blanketed in red. _

* * *

—x—

* * *

Angrily, Ishida turns to his side, throwing the single pillow he has across the room with a bitter cry.

Why can't these dreams make sense? It would be easier if they didn't exist at all, if there would be no dreams to come to. All he wishes for is _rest_ but in return there are only waves of emotions. Night after night, they have become more frequent. Sometimes, they replay themselves again, as if he would forget. He knows each dream by heart. It's difficult not to think of them in the daytime. It's draining him.

They are his memories, Uryuu acknowledges in great displeasure.

Knowing how childish it is, Ishida curses his _other self_, the self before all of this. He curses the other Ishida because it was _him_ who got into this mess. And it's _him_ who is trying to fight back, throwing dark scenes of blood or the rare, lively smiles from the only woman who can haunt Uryuu.

Groaning, Ishida stands and unenthusiastically strides to the door. The servant boy will be here within the hour. Perhaps Ishida could pull some more answers from him. Talking is comforting; hearing someone's voice rather than his storming thoughts is far better than anything else at this point.

Strangely, he senses someone coming before the sound of footsteps reach his ears. However, by the time he does hear them, Ishida knows exactly who is coming his way. _Pat, pat, pat, pat_. Peering out the door, he watches as Rukia heads towards him on the floorboards of the outside path, head bowed and hands at her sides. Another outfit adorns her form this time, something blue and pretty but he's too caught up in the revelation she's actually here.

Uryuu pretends his heart doesn't skip a beat when she glances up with delightful surprise.

"I didn't know you would be awake," Rukia nods slightly to the sky, which still has yet to grow brighter for morning.

Silently, he wonders why she would come if she thought that. Would she have waited for him to rise from sleep? Or was it to check up on him, as if he were some child?

"You haven't visited in a while."

Her eyes avert away from his and she adds in a murmur, "Only eight days."

Crossing his arms, Ishida leans against the doorframe. "Would you like to come inside?"

Lifting her head with something unusual dancing in her eyes, Rukia states, "Actually, I was wondering if you would accompany me with a walk."

He can't believe it. Going outside from this prison? Away from the Elders and annoying routines? Could his ears be deceiving him? Rukia looks serious as she patiently waits for an answer. He surely hopes it doesn't mean a walk around the large mansion of a house rather than beyond the gates, but he grabs at the chance anyway. Anything to have someone share a presence with him.

With a charming smile, "How could I refuse?"

* * *

—x—

* * *

Thankfully, his prayers are answered and they walk outside the gates. Dressed in a light blue kimono, silver flower designs snaking around the cloth, Rukia keeps her gaze forward. Ishida spots certainty in her expression, along with an abnormal airy feeling. She's comfortable, he realizes with some shock.

Though, he's not one to talk, as his steps are a bit lighter and his arms swing at his sides with confidence and newfound freedom. With her at his side, it feels better rather than being alone. Having to lend him a male's kimono (so that he would not stand out as much as before with blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt), he takes some time to inspect it. The outfit is soft and fits him well; gray fabric and baby blue patterns cover him. They nearly match, he notices with some amusement—Rukia must have arranged that somehow.

Glancing down at his company, Ishida catches her staring up at him with a small smile. A burst of awe explodes in his chest, tingling his skin and tinting his cheeks red. That's what he had wanted to see: that lovely, intoxicated smile. Almost as if it were wrong, Rukia quickly turns back. A silence blankets them suddenly and it's on a steady course to being uncomfortable. To change the sudden awkward mood, Ishida strikes a question.

"Where are we going?"

It works. There's another hitch in her step as she points ahead to the incoming buildings he recognizes from before. "Seritei" that one servant boy called it. The headquarters for the operations here in the Soul Society. He frowns again at the strangeness of it all but ignores it as Rukia speaks.

"First, we are visiting Unohana-taichou of the Fourth Division," she answers with a slight hint of a secret.

Quietly, Ishida reminds himself of what Haru, the servant, had told him about the ranks and different divisions of the system here. Fourth Division is in charge of medical care. That means this was all a ploy. Turning to her with a slight glare, she sighs and averts her gaze.

"I...confess this is part of a check-up. Unohana-taichou is the best there is and I want you to feel better. Get better," Rukia explains quietly. Sighing, he accepts it. "But," she continues with a smile, "may you still be interested in a tour? That is, if you aren't angry with me."

With a fleeting smile, he answers, "That's why I came along, isn't it?"

Something in her eyes dim just a little and he has a hard time deciphering what that means. "Yeah..."

* * *

—x—

* * *

The 'check-up' is quick and painless. Lying on the small hospital bed, the Fourth Division captain ran the simple tests any normal doctor would. Checking for normal pulse, breath intake, blood pressure. Apparently, he's almost good to go; at least he is physically. In that calm and gentle way, she tells him he will still experience fatigue, though he will no longer need medication.

"Your mind is at a constant unease. I'm not sure if the memories will come back spontaneously or over a long period of time," the captain says to Ishida.

Deciding not to mention they already have, Ishida stays quiet. Nodding, he turns to Rukia, who has her arms crossed in a subtle hint of discomfort. That stoic expression is disgustingly plastered on her face and he has to blink away, banishing the image.

The next moment, "Is that it? May we leave?"

Unohana-tachiou's line of sight flutters to Rukia then back to him. With closed eyes, she nods. With a smile, he glances at Rukia again. To his dismay, her passive features have now turned to a deep frown.

Waving her hand to the door, she says, "I'll be only a second, Uryuu. I must ask Unohana-taichou something."

Mentally sighing, he bows his head once in the captain's direction and exits the room, closing the door gently behind him. Turning his face to the ceiling, he releases a heavy breath, shoulders slumped. Even now, Rukia gives him more mysteries to sift through. What could she possibly want to discuss with the captain? Ishida sighs again and runs a hand through his hair.

"Is there a possibility his memories have already come to him?"

Ishida's ears perk at the sound of Rukia's voice. How is he hearing them? The door is made of solid wood and these walls must be thicker. It sparks some interest as he thinks that maybe by the simple wish to hear has brought about this sense. Probably not. Though, he remembers his strange sixth senses from earlier events; like how he always knew it was Rukia who was coming, despite not be able to see her at first.

The soft voice of Unohana-taichou follows seconds later, "Yes, it is. However, in this case, it seems his memories will appear in dreams rather than all at once. The information Urahara has given me...it seems more probable as I observe his behavior. And the fact the process of vanquishing his memories hadn't been complete—you had reached him in time."

"You mean he already remembers?" slight panic sweeps over Rukia's tone and Ishida questions why that would be such a big deal.

"More in likely, yes." A silence falls and Ishida expects the door to open. However, the captain's voice begins again, slow and gentle, "You mustn't worry, Kuchiki-san. Honesty and kindness is useful in these situations."

The advice seems to be directed at the both of them, though he's not sure how she would sense he is eavesdropping. But he realizes those are good words: honest and kindness. Do those go hand in hand now? How could he explain to Rukia all those dreams leave him in bewilderment and nearly _kills_ him? There is no comfort in telling her the truth and he assumes she's doing the same thing.

With a polite thank you, Rukia steps outside in the hallway with him and offers a brief, forced smile. He feigns one back.

Emerging back onto the streets, Ishida and Rukia walk together, passing the others dressed in black kimonos. They all stare momentarily until blinking away their curiosity and go about their business. Glancing down, Ishida notices a new tenseness Rukia possesses. Something has unsettled her. Was it what the captain had said? Or perhaps something else?

Without thought, he links his arm through hers, nearly causing to her jump in panic, and flashes a grin.

"Where to next?"

Matching the intensity of his grin with her own smile, she says, "Anywhere our feet take us."

* * *

—x—

* * *

**Author's Notes**

* * *

—x—

* * *

I forgot to thank an anonymous reviewer (**peanut**) for pointing out my grammatical mistake in the summary: I said "loosing" not "losing". So, I am grateful to you for bringing that to my attention. Also, the feedback for this story amazes me; there is such a small fanbase for this couple, so all of you are fandom heroes. Thank you.

Comment, PM and/or read. Just enjoy~


	4. Remake

**Recalling You  
****Disclaimer**: I do not own _Bleach_.  
**Warnings**: none.  
**Notes**: There's more thoughtfulness in this chapter, so we get down on a couple mysteries.

* * *

—x—

* * *

He feels as if Rukia has never been like this. Ishida can't be certain, of course, but something within his mind gives a new feeling of her behavior. Nevertheless, it is welcome as Rukia laughs lightly every now and then and hangs off his arm as if this is normal. It feels like his Other Self is whispering to him about how this hasn't happened before; she's never seemed so happy. Or at least, not in awhile.

Their feet take them to outside the barracks, to a nice little country land. It takes an hour to get there but he doesn't notice as Rukia fills him in of what she's been doing the past few days without his knowledge. She had gone back to "the world of the living" to find more information of his illness. He assumes there must be more to the story than that but she avoids whatever conflict she was confronted with and explains his amnesia is definitely temporarily. He comments here and there, attempting to collect things he knows about the sickness.

They stop at a small creek. Simultaneously sitting down together, he looks ahead, where rolling hills and blue skies fill his vision. Closing his eyes, he sees nightmares and his vague past. Then, turning to the young woman, Ishida finds that she probably is the only one who knows _everything_. It's never been so clear and he wonders why he hadn't realized it sooner.

"Tell me," he breathes out and when she stares at him with a torn look, he knows she understands _exactly_ what he's talking about. Her expression changes to a frown and Rukia turns her head, hiding her face from him. Slightly exasperated, he pleads, "Rukia, I must know something. _Anything_. Please tell me."

Slow to meet his gaze, Rukia opens her mouth, releasing a shaky breath. Eyes drilling into his, she asks, "What do you want to know?"

There's _so much_ he wants to know. He wants to know the truth of the Soul Society. He wants to know what he was like before. He wants to know the answer to his dreams. Most of all, he wants to know how he could possibly be linked to a woman like her. Was he not a normal human being before? She must be too much of a noble to be allowed near him. Why does she spend such time on him? What had he done? How had they met? What made her so compelled to assist him?

In all these questions, he finds himself in honest need of help. He _needs_ this love she offers. Whatever friendship they had before is the rescue he desperately has to have now. Before, he hadn't wanted help; pride, denial, the amnesia and whatever else had kept him from accepting her. Gazing at her now, Uryuu wonders how this could have happened—how he had achieved in earning such a friend.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs. "Where do I start?" A nervous chuckle escapes his lips. Watching her again, he spies hesitance in her eyes. "What _should_ I know?"

Moments pass as he studies Rukia while she stares at the creek's rushing water with glazed, unseeing eyes. He thinks how beautiful she can be without knowing it. Or, perhaps she doesn't know it at all. Even wearing such a dismal expression, she's everything of apparent beauty. She's frozen in time it seems and, childishly, he's worried she'll forget what she must say to him.

Timidly, Uryuu scoots just a little closer to her and it breaks her small spell of thoughtfulness. Snapping her gaze to him, she begins quietly.

"You were the most fearless," Rukia's voice is laden with secrets he thinks he may already know. "You chose your opponents out of logic or odd chivalry. If you knew you couldn't win, you went forward anyway because...because it was out of honor," she rubs her eyes and, with some horror, he realizes she's crying. "I think I've told you all of this to you before. I _must_ have. It's the first thing I learned when I met you."

Venturing with only some courage, he places a hand upon hers. "When did I meet you?"

"Oh, that," she laughs half-heartedly, as if covering for her sudden sadness. "It was four years ago...almost four, at least. That was when everything was so unclear. And you were so proud of what you were."

Abruptly, she stands and he quickly follows. Locked on his eyes, she stares with a strange fierceness. Before he can see it, her hand whips out to his chest and her index finger lands forcefully upon his skin. Ishida's heart stops and he can't breathe for a second before he hurriedly steps away from her. She advances, brows creased and darts her hand toward him again. He dodges, terrified by the strange turn of events.

"Rukia...! What's going—?"

Another attack and he dodges again. A feeling bursts through his chest from where she had hit him just a moment earlier. Coughing, Ishida attempts to steer clear of her punches as something overtakes him. It's painful but exhilarating all at once. Jumping back again as she makes another move, he feels in control of this new feeling and directs it away from his chest. No longer in pain, he watches as this 'feeling' is not just intangible.

Energy.

As if time stands still for only him, Uryuu watches as a string of power flows from around his arm to his hand, akin to an electric current's movements. Instinctively, he grasps the moving light of off white and shocking blues, as if he had done this before. Almost immediately, the current forms into a curved shape. It's not a second later until he realizes the force has darted to his left hand, connected to the one in his right.

Turning his heels into the dirt, he directs this newfound energy to Rukia, whose fist nearly takes a landing on him. Wide-eyed, Rukia stares at the current of light that he wields in his hands. For a moment, he thinks she may be just as terrified as he is but he doesn't get the chance know.

As he's lost part of his concentration, the control of this power is quickly slipping away. Realizing this, Ishida knows this—whatever _this_ is—is still pointed at Rukia. Swiftly, he throws himself in the other direction as the power discharges itself from him, like an arrow released from its bow. The rest of the energy dissipates from his right hand and disappears in the air.

Numb, Uryuu falls to his knees. Rukia kneels next to him, arms around his shoulders. It occurs to Uryuu she was testing him for something and she found it. Everything was just an experiment. He can't be angry because, well, he's too exhausted.

"What...what am I?"

A heartbeat later, "A Quincy. The last one."

Uryuu knows that only brings about more questions than before but he can't care right now. It's not just the fugue amnesia this time. He's just tired. Falling back, Uryuu closes his eyes for rest as Rukia lays his head on her lap.

Comfort. That's what he remembers when waking up for the first time. He remembers lying in the middle of his kitchen and her voice and that lovely smile. How long had she been there just staying with him? What sort of devotion was this? Ishida opens his eyes momentarily to stare at her face close to his. It would have been shocking, or even uncomfortable, but all he wants is to have her near.

She smiles beautifully and he returns it.

He's not really sure, but when he closes his eyes to sleep, he thinks he feels a kiss upon his mouth. But that's silly. Because this is _Rukia_ and the Rukia he's known so far doesn't do such things. But it doesn't matter for too long because he's already asleep.

* * *

—x—

* * *

_Something about this is wrong. Actually, _everything_ is wrong about what he's doing. It's wrong that he's entwining a hand through hers and she's smiling at him. It's wrong that she's allowing it to happen. It's wrong he's just going along with it. It's wrong they're walking down the sidewalk together, without a care that the world sees them. It's wrong he's _pretending nothing's wrong_._

_He never meant for it to lead to this. But, at this moment, he can't care. It's odd that all his worries have gone now. Maybe it's because she's leaning her head against him. Or maybe it's because he notices how wonderful her hair smells. Perhaps it's the way their small touches are like electricity. _

_Romance. Yeah, that's what it's called. Is this really what it was? Part of him hopes there's even more—that maybe this surpasses some sort of label. It's something that goes beyond what movies and books present; instead this is something more real and gratifying, without remorse._

_She stops them unexpectedly and glances up. With confusion he stares back. Reaching up on her toes she meets his mouth with hers pleasantly with a smile, catching him off guard. Pulling away, she chuckles at his expression and continues to lead him down the street._

* * *

—x—

* * *

Ishida glares at the wall across the room.

Well.

That was odd. And a _really_ unnecessary dream.

He throws the pillow at the wall because, well, that dream was kind of frustrating too.

* * *

—x—

* * *

He's outside in the pathway, leaning against the wall when the medic girl comes by. Her short, white hair catches the sun and the strands glimmer. She isn't paying attention, so she nearly falls over his legs that are outstretched on the boardwalk.

Surprised, she gasps, "Ah! You shouldn't be sitting out here in the open! I almost tripped and I'm sure others will if you..."

Her ramblings are cut short when Ishida flashes her the most charming smirk he can muster. Instantly, her face flushes and she covers mouth as if to cover up a small yelp. Standing, he plants a hand on her shoulder soothingly.

"I'm sorry I worry you."

"I..."

"Would you mind telling me your name?" he questions, seeing she hasn't even made a move to begin the healing procedure.

Her body is still rigid and Ishida concludes that touching her didn't help. Face still red, she shakes her head. His shoulders slump just a little. Uryuu had hoped that maybe he could get better acquainted with her then perhaps find a better way to speed this 'healing process'.

An idea comes to mind. Making a dramatic and sweeping bow, he introduces himself, "Ishida Uryuu," and with a smirk, "We've met about ten times in a row. So isn't sad that your name hasn't been passed between us?"

She closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head again. In defeat, Ishida sits back down and waits for her to pull out the medical instruments. Though, he finds it odd there is no bag with her this time. Just her. Raising an eyebrow, he watches as she kneels down next to him and lays a hand over his chest with much caution.

Turning to her, he searches for an answer for his confusion. However, it seems she's forcing herself to focus on what she's doing and deliberately not meeting his gaze. Her hand stays there and with surprise, Ishida eyes it as a green glow surrounds from the tips of her fingers to the rest of the back of her palm. Soon, he feels a calming sensation. No sleepiness this time.

Her hand moves from his chest to above his face. It hurts only for a moment until a cool rush overcomes him. The tense muscles he once had seem to go away. The headache and dark thoughts begin to flow away. And, even as he thinks of his dreams, it doesn't bring such anxiety.

"What are you doing?" he manages to murmur to her.

"Ah...it's to calm you."

"Hm. I noticed that."

She doesn't respond but he's fine with that. It feels great to have this feeling, it's almost peaceful. It's not just physical; mentally he feels at rest as well. _Amazing_, he thinks. It continues for another two minutes until he's close to sleeping in comfort (for once in a very long time). He hears her move away from him. Ishida stays rooted on the ground, hands folded over his abdomen.

"It's...Isane."

Opening one eye, Ishida looks at her with curiosity. "Hmm?"

"My name. It's Isane."

He offers a smile as she nods shyly and begins on her way back.

"Wait."

Turning, she blinks, face crimson with embarrassment. "Yes?"

"Will you need to come back again?"

"Maybe...once more. To be...certain."

Nodding, he waves her goodbye, smiling gratefully and she goes on her way.

* * *

—x—

* * *

Uryuu knows that asking Rukia anymore questions would probably repel her from him. Or result in some sort of situation he doesn't want to be in, so his dreams are the only answers he'll most likely ever get.

In a great variety of his dreams, there is a young man with orange hair. He remembers him from a couple weeks ago, meeting him on the street. It was an unfortunate run-in, but from his dreams, the feeling had been both friendly and icy. Ishida concludes this boy had something to do with this fugue amnesia. He played some part.

And then there's the really strange relationship shown to him with Rukia. Ishida forces himself not to think of that often. He's having a hard time believing they may have been romantically involved—it's only getting complicated. The dreams open the flood gates of problems and the possibility of _him_ and _her_ just creates a whole new category of confusion.

To Uryuu's disappointment, flashes of the "powers" he supposedly wields only show in _some_ dreams, out of the scores of others. He wants to know what a Quincy is, to understand what it means to hold the title. _The last one_, he thinks with a bit of morbid thrill. Is it that important? How many others had been given the name of "Quincy"?

It's a mystery but why doesn't it show itself to him already? He wants to know! It's not like before. He no longer wishes to start another life, apart from what he once was, apart from Rukia. Isn't that the whole point of this amnesia? They tell him it happened because he _wanted_ to forget. Well. Now he _wants_ to remember. And nothing is happening.

* * *

—x—

* * *

After dinner and the servant leaves, Uryuu takes his place in the far corner of the room. After sitting down, he holds his arm out in front of him and watches.

It comes from his core, the very center of his chest. The force he can _command_, he has _found_. It embraces him, as if a welcome back. The energy snakes down his right arm, pools into his palm and darts to his left hand. Always. It usually takes the form of a bow and arrow but the form disappears seconds later. There's something missing—something else must keep this form together.

But he quickly allows the current dissipate. Someone might see.

* * *

—x—

* * *

Rukia comes to see him every day now. It's been a total of three weeks of his stay here. Her visits are something he feels is right and looks forward to her presence. Her manners slowly progresses back to her more reserved personality and he thinks that means she's getting used to her time with him.

Usually she sits herself at the small table in the room, where he will eat. Today, she brings a meal for the both of them.

"I took it upon myself to get a nice dinner," she explains. Looking behind her shoulder to the door, as if worried the Elders are spying, Rukia sets the food on the table. "My brother is having me more involved in family matters. I'm afraid we don't have long."

He nods in understanding and eats with her in silence. For a moment, he wonders what else she's doing that she's not telling him.

* * *

—x—

* * *

"Are you all right?"

Uryuu stiffens and focuses his eyes on her, blushing. "Yes, why?"

"You're staring at me," Rukia informs him quietly, apparently just as uncomfortable as he feels. "Were you daydreaming?"

Forcefully turning back to his bowl of food, Uryuu frowns in contemplation. Truthfully, he had been thinking deeply on _some_ things. However…

"Sometimes, seeing…_you_," he says in a hushed voice, "…it helps."

There is no response, though he spies a red tint on her cheeks as she ducks her head.

* * *

—x—

* * *

It's well into the night, the moon quite high in the sky and casts all kinds of shadows along the walls and floor. He senses a presence coming near and it isn't long until a silhouette appears through the rice paper door. Uryuu recognizes it immediately and watches through small slits as she steps inside.

_Pat, pat, pat, pat. _

When her footsteps cease, Rukia has chosen a seat only a meter away, legs tucked underneath her and hands folded within her small lap, back straight. She doesn't look his way and he half-wonders why. Rukia simply sits there, gaze set on the wall across the room.

For minutes, it stays like this and he continues to pretend. Curiosity and apprehension dies in that time and Uryuu realizes it feels rather peaceful with her close by. And, with satisfaction, he knows she feels the same. It's almost like in the past, when he had fallen asleep with her there, like a security blanket.

When she finally gets up, he reaches for her wrist suddenly. A gasp is released and sounds so loud in the night. Her eyes, filled with shock, settle on his determined features. He remembers a memory much like this—at Urahara's, when he pulled her down beside him before she could leave. Only, now, he's tugging at her with question and hesitance.

Permission is not granted and she withdraws almost violently and slips out of the room soundlessly. Uryuu feels like he broke something—temporarily, but he damaged some tranquility between them. He slumps back onto the mat and submits himself to nightmares, an escape for now.

* * *

—x—

* * *

They begin to go out more often. His health appears to be doing much better. The fatigue bothers Uryuu occasionally, though he's making up for it with these outings. And mentally…well, he's not having as many headaches as before. The memories are coming back gradually, though Uryuu refuses to tell Rukia, still feeling incredibly disconnected to the Rukia in his memories and the one with him now.

She takes him around. From time to time, they walk around different outskirts, just talking. Usually, they end up at that little creek and exchange words. Sometimes, she'll take him to the suburbs of the area deliberately, where there are more housing and market places. Rukia explains the poorer, less fortunate people reside here—almost unwelcome to the shinigami culture. Uryuu silently questions why this would be so important to her, why she would _want_ him to know about it. But, in the end, it doesn't really matter as she leads him other places pleasantly.

When they sit down at the edge of the creek, Rukia stares at him pointedly. He gazes back, noticing a difference in her composure. The sight spurs a change within his thoughts.

Before he can stop himself, "Is anyone missing me?"

Frowning instantly, Rukia questions, "Why would you ask that?"

Shrugging, Uryuu keeps his eyes locked on hers. "I wanted to know if there was anyone else."

It's quiet between them and he supposes he shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid. He knows better. Asking things only brought about more problems and he keeps forgetting that. However, Uryuu desperately wishes to know his life from before—there must have been others, right?

But she surprises him. "Yes...people are missing you."

Uryuu tips his head to the side. She smiles prettily and he has to remember to breathe.

"Orihime. I bet you remember her. Vivid red hair and always happy," Rukia offers a half-hearted laugh. Frowning slightly, Uryuu has to keep himself from nodding because he still doesn't want her know. At least he has some names for the people in his dreams now. "And Chad too. The quiet and thoughtful type. Keigo-san asks about you more than anyone else. Oh, and Tatsuki-san sometimes. Renji too. Constantly, he's asking how you are. He would come see you but...well, you know."

"What?" he encourages her to explain. He _doesn't_ know and he wishes she would just answer one question without leaving several others in its wake.

Her eyes meet his before they avert away again. "We agreed you'd be away from chaos and things that may confuse you. That's...why no one else is here. Just me."

Ah, so that's why she insisted he stay at the Kuchiki manor. It doesn't matter. He likes it here and they both know it. But Ishida thinks there's more to that story too. Leaning closer, he asks carefully, "Anyone else I know?"

She glances at him briefly, as if deciding to answer truthfully. He's noticed she doesn't _want_ to lie to him. But she won't tell the whole truth and that's a fact. In her quick glance, Uryuu locates reluctant deceit with dismay.

Sighing, Rukia softly responds, "Not really. No one else has asked about you. You and me...we don't associate much, you know."

_Then how did we meet?_ Uryuu wonders to himself.

* * *

—x—

* * *

On the way back, her shoulders sag just a little. He realizes, for once, that this has taken a toll on her as well. She's tired. Despite how her skin still glows with health, her eyes cannot hide the weariness. In his silence, Uryuu ponders reasons why she wouldn't find rest. What else could be troubling her?

He plants an arm around her tiny frame securely and she tilts into him, as if it's natural. His mind flashes back to his dreams. Of strange, nostalgic feelings and vivid visions, he remembers holding her close and Rukia's lips upon his sweetly. But those are _dreams_ and he tries to force them out of his mind for now.

They pass the large gates and make their way to his little, temporary room. They pause, together, ten steps away from the door. The small hand within his twitches a little and they share a look filled with unconcealed anxiousness. When she lifts her head further, strands of black hair fall over her eyes. Something is about to happen, he thinks, something that is not warranted, or allowed, and probably crosses several lines his Other Self established. But all he knows is that he can't fight the urge to find any reason to make it matter.

Tenderly, he brushes the hair out of her face, eyes set on hers. A strange echo of the past whispers in his ear, reminding him that this _may_ have happened before. It's not a dream this time around and, as Uryuu takes a moment to study the way her eyes meet his knowingly, he finds he's content with that. Bringing his body closer, Uryuu delicately skims his fingers over her cheek. Uryuu feels Rukia shiver slightly under his touch and, unhurriedly, he lowers his head near hers.

"Stop me," he whispers, a quiet plead because he knows that this is still wrong and it'll come back to hurt them.

But she hastily leans further, their lips touch and all thoughts of consequences are thrown out the window.

* * *

—x—

* * *

**Author's Notes**

* * *

—x—

* * *

Bet ya'll were wondering when _that_ was gonna happen. Oh, and again, thanks to **peanut**, who is steadily becoming my new beta reader with the quick catches. And another thanks for those of you have given this story feedback.

Comment, PM and/or read. Just enjoy.


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